


Remember

by b00ksandcleverness (Asylum)



Category: QTWD, The 100 (TV), queer the walking dead
Genre: Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Memory of past lives, Past Lives, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asylum/pseuds/b00ksandcleverness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alicia Clark has always remembered Lexa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This kinda...just came out of absolutely nowhere. I just was hit with a feel, and had to get it out. I wrote it in about an hour, so apologies for any mistakes. Enjoy!

You’ve always been aware of Lexa. 

She’s been...like a friend. A friend that’s watched over you since you were little. Except she’s more than a friend. You remember Lexa’s life like it was your own. 

When you were little, it was flashes here and there of growing up in a strange but familiar land. Of being trained to fight, of being trained to be strong and silent, of being trained not to love. 

You feel bad for Lexa sometimes. You know how deeply she loved. How deeply she felt about everything around her. Because you grew up in a family that taught you love was everything. You grew up with a father who believed that love gave you strength, that love defeated all. You wish Lexa had that. 

As you grow older, Lexa grows with you. You remember more of her life; you remember her becoming commander. You fall in love with your people. You fight tooth and nail to bring them together. You feel the ache every time someone dies for you. You rejoice at the momentary peace you created. 

You remember Cosita. You remember the cool breath of air she was in your hellfire life. You remember her laugh, bright as the sun. You remember how her curly hair would tickle your nose when you held her. You remember the devastation of looking into her lifeless eyes and wanting to die. You remember not being able to. 

You meet Clarke. You fall in love with Clarke. You drown in Clarke’s ocean eyes and burn up in the firestorm she carries with her. You remember thinking that maybe fire isn’t so bad if Clarke is the one making you burn.

By the time you’re seventeen, you know all of Lexa. You wish Lexa knew all of you, but you know that’s impossible. 

You’ve researched past lives since the first time you heard the term from your father. You know Lexa was you in a past life...or maybe you were Lexa. You’re never sure which term fits best. 

When the zombie apocalypse happens, you spend weeks laughing at the irony. How does one live through two post apocalyptic worlds? You wonder if Lexa is actually in the future sometimes. If maybe that’s why they burn their dead. But you know there’s no space stations in the sky, and sometimes this thought makes you sad because this universe doesn’t contain Clarke Griffin. 

Fine. Maybe this thought doesn’t just make you sad. Maybe this thought makes you ache perpetually for the woman with golden hair and the blue eyes that stole your breath and your heart in a life where you were taught that this was the very definition of weakness. 

So maybe you don’t laugh at the irony. Maybe you just cry. 

You’re never sure how you survive. Maybe more of Lexa is in you than you thought. You know you’ve relied so much on your half-gone memories of her training to learn to fight. Maybe it stuck. Because it’s time to survive again. 

You wish life could be about more than just surviving. Clarke isn’t here to teach you that this time. 

You wish you could be as strong as Lexa. 

It takes months for the world to go calm. As calm as you think it can go. You and your family - what’s left of it - carve out your own little niche away from what used to be San Jose, California. The town you find is small, and the walkers there have mostly rotted enough to be annoyances rather than dangers. It’s not really the dead you have to watch out for, anymore. The living are more dangerous. 

_The dead are gone, Clarke. And the living are hungry_

You think it’s more accurate to say “The dead are dying”, but you still have to laugh again at the ridiculous irony. The painful irony. 

You find horses, ones half wild with freedom and fear. You always wanted to learn to ride. 

You wonder if Lexa will ever stop helping you. 

Trips into San Jose take days. A day’s ride there, several to pick through the city for supplies, to fend off the dead, to hide from the living. You scavenge anything and everything, but the city has a lot to give. You’re not sure why so many left this place, but you rarely find any other scavengers. Mostly the dead. 

These trips make you feel more alone in the world than you thought was possible. The empty city is eerie and heartbreaking, and you hate going there more than anything. 

You eke out a living in this tiny ghost town. You learn to farm, to survive off what you grow. You keep to yourselves; you, Nick, and Ofelia become your own family, your new family. You miss the others, but it’s a dull ache in your chest now, added to those of Cosita and Anya and Gustus and Clarke and Matt...sometimes in your dreams the lines blur. 

Sometimes, when it gets to be too much, you use a few precious batteries to charge your iPod and you get lost in the music that makes you feel like everything’s normal again. 

One of those days, when everything is too much, when you see Clarke in every grain of golden sand around you, in every speck of the clear blue sky, in every grain of wood, it happens.

It’s maybe a year after the end of the world, and something breaks the silence. 

You’ve gotten used to silence. It’s quiet now, with nothing to break the silence but your voice and the sounds of wind and animals. You don’t talk much anymore. Nick and Ofelia have their own house just next door, and you share chores and have nights together. But even then, you don’t talk much. You don’t see the point.

So when you hear the rumble of a motorcycle over the sound of your music, you think you’re hallucinating. You think you’re hallucinating as you watch a black motorcycle make it’s way up the road. You think you’re hallucinating when you watch the rider stop it in front of your house. 

And when they take their helmet off, you know you’re hallucinating. Because you know that profile better than you know anything in the world. You’ve dreamt of those blue eyes - of Clarke’s eyes - often enough to know that there is no way they can be standing in front of you right now. 

But they’re closer now, those eyes. They have a sparkle in them, mischievous and devil-may-care, that’s different from what you remember. 

“Hey there, lil bit. You wouldn’t happen to have some water I could bott off ya?”

The accent is strange, but the voice makes your whole body go cold and hot at the same time. Your eyes caress her face, and you know your silence is most likely discomforting, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. 

You nod, jerkily, and motion for her to follow you to the back of your house. There’s a well there, and you fill her canteens. She introduces herself as Elyza Lex, and explains she’s been traveling across the country, looking for survivors and settlements. She started in Maine, and now she’s not sure where she’ll go. You nod at appropriate places as she talks, but still, you cannot bring yourself to speak.

She is different in this world, as you are. There is a freedom to her movements, a weightlessness that Clarke never had, and you realize why with a jolt; she is not weighed down by her responsibilities to her people. She has no people to guide, to protect, just as you do not. She is free, as you are. You ache more now than you ever have. 

_Maybe someday, we will owe nothing more to our people._

That day has come, but once again you’ve been brought together at the wrong time. 

“Well, thanks for the water, lil bit. I should be heading off. You take care of yourself, ya hear?” 

But watching her walk away from you is the most painful thing you’ve experienced in a long time, and it tugs the words from your throat. 

“Stay. Please.” 

Your voice is rough from under-use, and you know you sound desperate, but you see the flash of relief in Elyza’s eyes and you know your wish will be granted. 

You see no recognition light up her face, but you know as you look again into those blue eyes, that you’ve finally found a home. And you’ll wait for however long she needs for her to realize she’s found one, too.


	2. Elyza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elyza's always known something was missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got bigger than expected....I wrote this whole thing on my phone, so apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> Anyways, onward!

You've always known there was a part of you missing. 

For a long time, you thought it was because you were an orphan. You talked to so many other kids with a hole deep inside them and figured that's what it must be.

But it's not (just) that. 

Sometimes, you do things without thinking and wonder when you learned it (the first time you picked up a gun you were 10, and your hand was steady. You got sent back to the group home the next day, but at least you were able to protect everyone. Even just for a night).

You know things you were never taught. See flashes of people you never met out of the corner of your eye. You have an obsession with space and infinity symbols and you love the mountains even though you've never been to one. 

(You hate anything to do with artificial intelligence and you're not quite sure why. It just...feels _wrong_.)

When you were a kid you dreamed of a family. A mom named Abby and a dad named Jake. Your mom fixed people and your dad fixed machines and when they smiled at you you knew what love felt like. 

Abby and Jake never go away, but after 18 foster homes and 16 years, you know dreams are for babies and rich kids with real families. Besides, Abby and Jake make that feeling stronger. That feeling that you're missing something. Something big, something _important_. You really don't like that feeling. 

When you're 17, your foster family moves to the United States. They get you a passport and apply for your visa and you think maybe this one’s not too bad. The mom is brunette and stern, and the dad has a nice, easy smile. They remind you a little of Abby and Jake and you can't bring yourself to leave. You're not quite sure why they chose you, but maybe you were just due for some good luck for once in your life. 

They help you get a job; you work at an indoor gun range that doubles as a hunting store. You tell the owner you've never handled weapons before but when you shoot a perfect cluster with a .9mm your first day there you're not sure he believes you. You can throw knives, too, you realize, and that feeling of something missing hits you full force. 

You meet the first real friend you've ever had when you're 18. Her name is Dychen (who the bloody hell names their kid dee-tchen anyway? You tease her by calling her kitchen for months until she threatens you with her favorite throwing knife) and you think she's one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen with her slanted mahogany eyes and her bleached blonde hair. She makes that feeling of something missing go away just a little bit, even if you're more aware of it than ever when you're with her. 

She makes you feel protected and cared for and you promise to do everything in your power to make sure she's never hurt.

You're nearly 20 when she moves to California. You cry and rage at the fact you can't afford to go with her. You can't protect her in this new city with its strange people and you can't make sure she's safe and eating because she forgets when she's focused on tattooing. You swear that the moment you have the money, you'll join her. She bumps your shoulder with a sad smile and tells you she’ll be waiting. Sometimes you wonder if, in a different life, you could have been lovers. Sometimes you wish this life was the one you were meant to be hers.

You're 21 when the world goes to shit. You think maybe you were born for this world, because even when everything is crumbling and the dead are hungry and the living are hungrier, you've never felt so free. You owe nothing to anyone but yourself, and you can fight. You can fend for yourself better than most people, so you don't fear the dead. The living are worrisome, but nothing you can't handle. 

You're cocky and capable and have nothing to lose, so you find a bike and some food and load up with all the weapons you can handle and set off towards California. You don't give Maine a backwards glance.

You're not really in a rush (part of you is terrified to find out if what you're going towards is already gone) so you see the sites you always wanted to. Lincoln’s memorial in D.C (part of the Welcome to Washington D.C has been destroyed and seeing “...come ...ton D.C.” Is like a punch to your stomach and you're not sure why), Mount Rushmore, the painted desert, the Grand Canyon, the buttes of Montana. You scavenge off the land, mostly. You avoid cities when possible at first, but then you start to get bored. You visit the cities looking for other survivors, looking for settlements or camps. When you find them, you note them in a book you have and move on before you're noticed. It's enough, you suppose, to know you're not the only one other than the raiders. It gives you hope that you're not heading towards disappointment.

It takes you a long time to reach California. You're not sure exactly how long, but you think it might be about a year. You're not sure how the one month you planned turned into twelve but you realized somewhere along the way that cockiness isn't courage, and most days you feel a twinge of self loathing that goes beyond the normal weight you carry. You hope that if you ever find Dychen, she'll understand. Or at least stay still long enough to hear you out. That feeling of something missing has never gone away.

Your first look at L.A. stops your heart. The whole city is basically leveled. You think it looks like it's been bombed; great craters are visible even from the Grapevine. You can't imagine what it looked like a year ago, when this all first started. It must have burned for months. You know Dychen was outside L.A., but you're not sure if the town she lived in was spared the devastation. You skirt L.A. as best you can, but you're not concerned. A year of animation and daylight has rendered most corpses relatively harmless, so it's really the remaining scavengers you worry about. 

_The dead are gone, and the living are hungry_

You're not sure when you developed a motto.

You find Dychen’s house, and nearly break down when you find it empty. You curse yourself for being a coward, for being slow, for breaking your silent promise to her to keep her safe, for breaking the vocal one to find her soon. It's been two years, and she probably doesn't want to see you anyway...if she even remembers you. 

But you go inside anyway, just to see. Maybe you can find a piece of her to keep with you. You find a note instead. One in her handwriting, one that's simple and short and it breaks your heart.

_Tahoe_

You'd always planned to go there together. You guess you can forgive her the head start.

There’s something about the California coast that calls to you. You're pretty sure you've never seen a more beautiful ocean. You think if you were out there, you might be able to forget the rest of the world,

Maybe one day you’ll teach yourself how to sail. North of Monterey, you have to say goodbye to your coastal drive. The map says that Tahoe is inland, so you take the 156 to the 101 and keep heading north; you'll catch the 5 after you hit Gilroy. 

Except Gilroy changes your plans.

You miss your exit by a few miles; most of the signs have long since been knocked down and you have to stop once you see signs for San Jose and pull out your map.

You've ended up in the town past Gilroy called Morgan Hill. You suppose you got lucky; it looks small, and safe, and your gas tank is heading towards empty along with your water supply. You find fuel quickly; you suppose that even though it's on the way to a major city, this place is small enough not to warrant too much attention from passersby. Water is trickier. There are multiple fast food places, but they had all been raided a long time ago. There was no running water, but you didn't really expect any.

You roll your bike slowly through town, searching for any signs of life or food. You're about to give up when you spot it. A road at the edge of town that looks like it's been used.

It's not obvious, not really, but there’s less dirt on the sidewalk and there isn't any trash littering the road. There's a potted plant that's not dead just on the corner. You doubt anyone would notice unless they were really looking for it, and you find yourself admiring the subtlety.

You probably shouldn't go near the place. You turn down the street anyway. 

It's a nice little neighborhood, you think. Quiet, secluded, with plenty of space. You hear chickens clucking softly from further down the road, and spot horses in a large field to your left. You can see farmed land all the way down the street in what you assume used to be people's front yards. 

You think that maybe you'd like to live in a place like this one day. 

There's a figure you can barely make out at one of the last houses. They're sitting, you think, on a porch, watching you make your way towards them, and when you get close you realize it's a girl, around your age, with brown hair and fair skin and the biggest green eyes you've ever seen.

She looks at you like you're a ghost. 

You look into her eyes and realize that feeling that something’s missing is gone for the first time in your life. She's the most beautiful woman you've ever seen.

You guess she's the silent type because she doesn't say a word as you babble your way through asking for water, telling half-truths about why you're here because no matter how beautiful she is, you can't quite trust her yet. 

She doesn't say a word until you awkwardly try to leave, and when she asks you to stay you have to fight the immediate impulse to say yes. 

“Sorry lil bit,” and you truly are. Sorry, that is. “But I'm headed north for the moment. Got a mission.” 

You tell her you're looking for some friends, friends you can't leave behind. The disappointment in her eyes is plain to see, and holding yourself back from touching her is so much harder than it should be. “But...maybe, after I head north, I'll come back here?”

It's the best you can do, really. You don't know if you'll survive looking for Dychen, and you're not sure you could leave her if you do. But you're surprised at how much you really do want to stay. How much you really want to come back.

She gives you a small smile - the barest twitch of her lips, really - and your heart aches. She tells you to bring your friends, too, and her quiet voice captivates you like nothing else ever has. You can hear the lonely note in her voice, and you make another silent vow: to do everything in your power to make that note disappear.

You don't feel like you're missing something anymore when you leave. But for the first time in your life, you feel like you're leaving something behind. 

It takes you another month, trekking across the mountains on foot, but you find Dychen in Lake Tahoe. Just like she promised. You cry harder than you ever have in your life and you hold her to you and refuse to let her go for 30 minutes. She strokes your hair and whispers to you and you can feel her tears on our neck. 

When you can finally bare to let her go, you try to tell her you're sorry, you should have come sooner, you should have done more, but she bumps your shoulder just like old times and tells you to shut up and to stop being an idiot.

She introduces you to Lyndsi and Maree and Jessyka, and you like them all immediately. Lyndsi makes Dychen smile and you love her right away. Maree is like the bratty little sisters you looked out for in the System and you can't help ruffling her hair every chance you get. Jessyka is quiet and shy but her dry sense of humor and her ability to listen has you spilling your secrets before you can stop yourself. 

You tell them about this little town you found, with the quiet girl. You tell Dychen in private that you don't feel like you're missing something anymore. You ask if they want to go with you and try not to look to happy when they say yes (the woods are nice and all Lyndsi tells you but she misses real beds and showers even if they're cold, but you see the knowing look she gives Dychen and you find you can't be anything but grateful). 

It's slower, much slower, with five women rather than one. You volunteer to scout ahead for a truck or some horses, and you're in luck when you find a pickup with a full tank at a gas station. There's a few walkers groaning on the ground - your heart aches when you see the child - but it's easy to put them out of their misery. You suppose you should be grateful this place is so secluded, but you're just tired. So very tired. 

You go back and pick up Lyndsi, who has been designated as the driver. It takes another trip to get the truck, fill up your bike with fuel, and then the girls and by the time they're all in the pickup it's nearly dark. You all camp in the truck that night, each one of you taking a watch. It's close, with five women in one truck, and you feel almost claustrophobic after being alone for so long, but you sleep better that night than you have in a year.

It only takes five hours the next day to get back to that little town in the hills. The truck lasts all the way into town, and you park it at the same gas station you remember. 

This time when you walk down the street, there are three people at the last house. Lil bit is still there, though, so you're not too worried, and when she smiles at you it feels like everything is going to be ok.

You finally learn her name - Alicia (pretty name for a pretty girl, you smirk at her and revel in the blush that lights her cheeks - and the name of the other two - Nick and Ofelia - , her brother and his girlfriend. You introduce your new group and you're not sure why she looks at all of them like they're ghosts, too. You get a funny feeling in your stomach when she looks at Dychen like she wants to cry and you're not sure if it's jealousy or if it's happiness (you're not sure why you should feel either and decide to ignore it completely). You're not sure why you feel like you've come home again, but you know you don't want to leave. Nick seems wary of all of you, but you can tell it's Alicia who's in charge. So you stay.

You stay for weeks, and claim houses along the road; you take the one across from Alicia, Lyndsi and Dychen take the one next to yours, and Jessyka and Maree grab one in the middle, the one with the oak tree in the back yard. 

You stay for months and realize you always knew how to ride a horse. You don't feel like anythings missing anymore. You feel like things are coming back that you forgot a long time ago. 

You stay for a year and fall in love with a green eyed girl with a soft voice and chocolate hair. You stay for a year and learn the way she walks like it is your own, learn the smell of her skin, the feel of her hair. You stay for a year and build a life you never thought you'd have, in a town you renamed to Polaris because it feels right and because you've found your guiding star. 

You stay for a year and kiss that green eyed girl with the full lips and learn why exactly you felt like you'd been missing something your whole life. You stay for a year and cry in her arms when you remember it all.

You stay for years, and relearn Clarke and Lexa and Elyza and Alicia. You stay for years and build your town with all the people you love and laugh at how somehow, you all ended up together again. You stay for years and can never quite believe that you got them all back. 

You stay forever, and learn that death is never the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I have no fucking clue where this came from 
> 
> Oops.
> 
> Anyway, I'm always accepting prompts on my tumblr: b00ksandcleverness


End file.
